Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Fushigi Yugi or Middlemarch characters, places, etc.
A/N: Ah, the mystery is solved. Thoughts, anyone? No resolution yet. It's still coming!
Chapter 10: Memories
Mary tumbled haphazardly onto the ground, feeling the bite of sharp stones as she skid about a foot. The landing had been rough, and was not helped as Jacob skid into her. He managed to adjust his slide so he didn't crash into her, and skid painfully to a halt just beside her.
"What's going on?" Chichiri was saying, but Mary's eye had caught onto what had skewed their trajectory. Marcuccilli was standing, facing the Curled Horns. Mary followed his frozen gaze, and saw the building being ripped apart. A flat, triangular head jerked out of the earth, shaking dirt and rock off, wailing in pain. It looked something like a toad's head.
Even from this distance, Mary could hear the grinding pop of bones as they were pulled apart. Something was ripping the beast to pieces from the inside out. The toad gave a great heave, levering itself out of the ground, shaking and stumbling. Mary watched with baited breath as it moaned, and its legs snapped and gave way. The Curled Horns rested on its back, tumbling to pieces, and flaming deep inside. A belch of fire shot out of the swollen throat, consuming the trees hungrily, as the crippled beast tried to worm away from its rebelling insides.
"Damn…" Marcuccilli growled, clenching his fists. "Never thought I'd lose one to her." The night was lit up orange as the fires caught and spread. Jacob was already on his feet, watching intently.
Something was gnawing at Mary's consciousness. A fog had swept into her mind, and through it, she could hear familiar echoes. They were crying out, beckoning her to follow them back to who she had been.
"Not much time left," Marcuccilli turned now towards the two slaves and the monk. Chichiri had distanced himself from the whole group, his eye darting between Marcuccilli and Jacob suspiciously. "I'd better get what I can." He took a step towards them and Mary climbed to her feet, braced now for an attack. In three more steps, he suddenly dissipated and became mist, swirling. What had been his form walked right through Mary, and as she turned to follow his movements, she saw that the whole mountainside draped in a milky veil.
"Chichiri!" she called, unable to see him. She backed up a step and found Jacob's back.
"Mary, do you know who you are?" Chichiri asked through the fog. She took a few steps towards the sound of his voice. "Do you know who I am?"
"What kind of question is that?" Mary asked, feeling a thrill of fear.
"Why were you looking for Kendall? What's she mean to you?" Chichiri's voice was grave. Mary stopped walking, and examined the dark shadows around her. She felt the fog much better then she saw it, everything faintly tinged in orange and silver from the fire and moonlight. Behind her, she could feel the heat, while ahead, the fluffy shapelessness of fog curled languidly by her cheeks. She felt suddenly very a lone.
"Kendall is the first person I can remember," Mary replied. "I don't even know how old I am, and I have no memories of my life before I saw her. I've felt like she would know the answers if I could only follow her."
"Do you know that man, the blonde who came looking for you?" Chichiri pressed, his tone a bit gentler, but still edged in firmness. Mary searched her memory, trying to break through the blindness that choked her.
"I remember him as if from a dream," she answered, looking into the fog earnestly. "I know him, but I can't say how." Chichiri was silent, as if searching for the right words. "Chichiri? Where are you?"
In the fog, the image of a man became apparent. It was at first only his silhouette, blurred at the edges as it continued to solidify. Color began to leak into it, turning into a rich blue cloak, the green scales of armor, white sleeves, dark boots. The last color to melt into place was the pouring of golden hair, sliding past his regal cheeks, and fringed over his cerulean eyes.
"I know you…" she whispered, her eyes widening. She reached out, great relief and yearning filling her in a colossal flood. The image watched her with unfeeling eyes. Yes, she knew this scenario, had witnessed it a hundred times. It was the beginning and end of her universe, the one pair of eyes she wanted to behold and love her. "Please, don't run from me any more!" she urged, picking up speed.
One arm extended to her, a feral gleam in the azure gaze, reflecting the fires raging beyond the fog. Mary ran for him, straining her fingertips as she reached out to him.
"I've found you! I've finally found you!" she almost wept.
"Stop!" someone shouted behind her, but Mary's hand slid along the sinewy fingers of the mist illusion. Her hand was closed over, and she was pulled into a tight embrace. She buried her face in the familiar, clean scent of the soap he'd always used to wash his soldier's clothing and the herbs in his hair. His embrace was firm and commanding, just as she remembered. He was a man without weakness, a creature beyond salvation, and yet he had always been good to her, and never masked his intentions, a symbol of respect.
"Finally," she sighed, exhilarated. Closing her eyes, she reveled in ecstasy she'd never thought she'd feel again. Just to see him made all the recent hardships worth it. "Nakago," she purred his name, forcing her frame to meld against his.
The confounding fog in her mind burned away all at once, lifting in the graceful folds of stage curtains.
- I Never Knew Such Kindness -
The bark grated against her back, gnawing at the smooth skin between her shoulder blades. The client's rough hand was large and heavy, demanding. She was tired, so tired. But this was the first man who hadn't paid, who hadn't been let through the carefully guarded gates at the front of their establishment. No, this man had followed her to the edge of town, to her secret place in the woods where she escaped.
"Come on, girly," he jeered, his other hand reaching for her bright coat. She jerked her shoulder back, catching it on the tree. A zinging pain lanced through her arm, tingling through her fingers and smarting up to her shoulder.
She didn't know what to do. It was too far to cry out for help, and he was too strong to get away from. Her eyebrows were knit, as hot tears swelled in her eyes. She looked up, pleading, searching for compassion and gentleness.
All at once, his eyes widened, pupils dilated, and his frame had arched towards her. She was confused, trying to step back and catching her heel on a root. His grip loosened, before he'd tumbled backwards. As he fell away and his shadow over her vanished, the sun lit on an equally as brilliant blond head, affixed with falcon-like blue eyes. Her breath caught, convinced she beheld a sky spirit.
Suddenly, it became a man. His sharp, pale cheeks were set without emotion, gazing at the dead man. A sword hung naked in his hand, tipped in vibrant read, cutting off the glean from the sunlight. He stooped, wiping the blade clean on his victim's dirty jacket, before sheathing it. Without even looking at her, he'd been turning to leave. The hitch in her voice made him halt, and he'd turned to look at her.
All at once, the sunlight felt wan and watery. The sky and earth fell away, leaving only him. Even the breath in her lungs was cast out, leaving only a vacuum. He was the world, brighter then all the celestial bodies, more divine then any god there ever was, and more merciful then even Buddha. He, a complete stranger, a being of transcendent light, had deigned to save her, a lowly prostitute in the pleasure districts.
And he looked away from her. She fell a thousand feet back to the ground, and felt the fetters of her reality crawl back over her skin once more. A searing fire demanded oxygen in her chest, and she recalled that it was her duty to serve her house, and bring in the customers. He strode away, opening up chasms between them, an ever-widening gorge she felt she couldn't fill.
Or could she?
Her heartbeat skipped a few measures, and the jitter moved one foot forward. The surprise at her own boldness allowed her eager feet a few more steps, before she caught herself. She trembled on the brink, balancing on her toes with her arms spread, gazing into a void. It yawned, hungry for her defeat, challenging her. He kept walking as a soldier beckoned to him.
"Why'd you stop? Stuff like that happens all the time. Part of life," the other soldier smiled. He was faceless, a vulgar who shouldn't have spoken to her savior. Her savior didn't say anything, but his silence was enough. Her fetters and fears broke, crumbling like rust-eaten iron. She sprang from her cage, and her feet pounded against the ground.
The rasp of air in her lungs and the ruckus her heartbeat made were the only things she could hear as she headed for her savior. Her world narrowed to him once more, but he didn't turn around to look at her.
A scabbard suddenly shot out before her, and she skid to a halt. Her eyes lurched to the faceless soldier.
"Where do you think you're going, missy?" he demanded. Her face hardened, and she scowled.
"It's fine," the savior said. That was all she needed. She bound herself, body and soul, to him.
- The Little Things -
He had rough hands, callused from swords, scattered with only a few scars flecked along the knuckles. They were wide palms, with graceful fingers.
- Always You -
Cold. He had gotten colder. Always moving farther away from everybody. She was the only one he extended a bit of a bridge back for, leaving faint signs for her to follow, and follow she did.
- Anything I Could Do -
Makeup. He never said anything about it, but it made her feel better to just have it on. She wanted to shine all for him, lend to his image of power and poise. It was her war paint, a ritual every morning, layering protection and serenity thicker and stronger then any steel.
The brothels had taught her one thing: appearance was everything. If she appeared calm and confident, especially as a woman, she could throw a man off kilter. He would wear himself out anticipating her. It was her strongest asset, that simple repetition of freshening up. It gave her a buffer, a face to offer the world, in place of her vulnerabilities.
- The One Thing I Could Never Have -
Envy. If only he would look at her and speak as this man spoke to the illusion she created of his lover. She set out to kill him, was bent on destroying the woman he loved, for the happiness of the man she loved. It was nothing personal. She sympathized with the clumsy brunette and her faithful lover. If only the man she loved would say one word, give her one look that these two shared.
But it was not the way of things. She loved him, she would do everything she could for him. And that was the agreement. He could never love, both of them knew it, and yet she could not resist that thread of hope that maybe, just maybe, he would see.
"You won't find him that way," she said, and the frightened brunette looked up at her, eyes large. Yes, it was envy, and some sorrow for her own choice to suffer, bound to him forever. But these two, perhaps they had a chance. A thrill of butterflies shot through her, recalling hearing the other man's words to who he thought was his lover.
- I've Always Loved You -
Pain. A breath gurgled into her lungs, filling with blood. She felt the sword blow, felt it catch between her ribs. But she could smell him, feel the muscles beneath his armor as they tightened. The devoured her, and she hunted with blurry vision for something to latch onto. It had all been instinct, putting herself between him and that sword.
Her vision crystallized on him. He was, after all, the beginning and end of all things. She tried to smile, and felt blood ooze between her teeth. Copper and bile mingled on her tongue. What a sight she must have been.
"I…" she felt the words gurgle in her throat. "I've always…" She urged herself to say it, to speak what she'd never said before. But they wouldn't come. Her jaw felt heavy, her tongue swollen. Panicked, she leaned up towards him, her fingers tightening around his armor and cloak. He was warm in spite of the cold gray on the battlefield. "I've always…" her voice gave out. She felt it snuff itself out, and her heart stopped.
It was cold and she was falling into oblivion. Her vision faded, the darkness encroaching in inky slowness. He looked dismayed, his pupils dilated, as if perhaps it was really he who'd been struck by that sword.
'What is it, Nakago? What broke you?' she wondered. 'I wish…I wish I'd been able to help you better…'
- I Never Wanted to Part -
"Do you wish to go back?" the golden-eyed woman asked, as she sat next to the silent gates in the haziness of the world between worlds. She tapped ash out of her long pipe and stuffed in fresh tobacco.
"Yes," she nodded.
"It will exact a price."
"I'll pay it. Anything to get back! I can't find him here…he didn't come! He must have gotten lost!"
"Anything you say?" A peculiar expression was on the ugly features of the body vendor, as she struck a match. The light gleamed in her eyes, reflecting back out like a wild beast's.
"It doesn't matter. Whatever you take from me, I'll overcome it! I can do it for him!"
"Your memories. That is the price for re-entering on the other side, even with just this half 'n half body. Your memories belong to me." The woman cackled at the second of hesitation.
"I'll do it," she murmured. "I'll find him anyway. There's no way I couldn't."
"Then you may pass."
- But It Seems I'll Never Reach You -
Soi felt the familiar drain in her mind, and felt the pieces of the puzzle falling away as quickly as she had just put them back together. She opened her eyes, looking up at Nakago.
"Nakago?" she asked, feeling hazy and tired. Marcuccilli smiled back down at her, and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
"Go back to sleep, Soi," he purred. Soi felt something fall away from her, and turned her head. The body she had used for so long fell over backwards, beaten and bruised. The recent injury made the vessel look shabby, and Soi realized how delicate it was. A part of her would miss that innocence the body and memory void had given her.
"I have to find Nakago…" she argued, trying to pull away. Marcuccilli hushed her, and closed her eyes with two fingers. It was too much energy to fight her. She was so tired…who was it she was looking for? Na…N…she couldn't recall…